


Billionheirs Have Sleepovers Too

by CaraMia



Series: The Billion-Heirs' Club [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraMia/pseuds/CaraMia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony’s usual babysitter goes out of town for the weekend but she makes sure he has company so he won’t mope while she’s gone.</p><p>Or: Pepper has business to get done and thinks Tony would appreciate having company to hang out with. Tony agrees and Bruce is already on his way. Oliver gets blackmailed into coming. Clint and Kate Bishop show up even though they weren’t invited.</p><p>Or: Billionheirs have sleepovers too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Billionheirs Have Sleepovers Too

**Author's Note:**

> Surprisingly, no one calls anyone, except at the beginning. This is an extreme departure from my usual writing. I hope you’re all impressed.
> 
> Sort of by request from Winchester_In_The_TARDIS_Of_Marvels who asked for Oliver/team bonding time. There should definitely be more Oliver in future stories. We’ll see… 
> 
> Welcome to the longest fic I've written so far!
> 
> Let me know what you think! /if you have any suggestions?

Tony was feeling even more brilliant than usual. Pepper was out of town, running her company (when did he stop thinking of it as "his" company?). Before leaving, she'd kissed Tony and said, "You should invite your friends over so you don't get lonely while I'm gone."

In retrospect, she had probably meant it as a joke. 

Tony thought it was a great idea. He called Bruce (Wayne) and regaled him with all the potentially catastrophic things he was thinking of doing while Pepper was gone. Bruce listened for precisely 30 seconds before he cut in with, "You're only doing this so I'll come over. I know you are. You could just ask, you know."

"What, I'm supposed to just call you and say 'please come over, my girlfriend is gone for the weekend and I'm gonna be sad without her'?"

"Sure. Or you could check your email and see that she already asked me to come visit while she was gone."

"... Oh."

"I'll be there in a few hours."

Getting Oliver to come was going to be more difficult. Tony decided against a phone call, opting instead for a very official Tony Stark email.

_Ollie! Come test bows! - T_

_P.S. No, seriously. I need a semi-sane person who didn't grow up in a literal circus to give me advice on bows. Bonus! You get to take one home._

He then CC'd Thea. Perfect.

*

In Star City, Oliver Queen was wondering why he'd given Tony Stark his email address. It took him far too long to remember that 1) he had not given Stark his email and 2) Stark was a tech genius despite being a totally ridiculous human being. Those items were probably related. He sighed and deleted the other 5 emails Stark had sent without opening them. The next email he received had "I can tell you're not opening these :(((((" as the subject line.

Oliver sighed. Again.

"Ollie. Seriously. Why do I have seven emails from Tony Stark? And why does a middle-aged man need to use so many emojis?"

"Because he's mentally about five, Thea."

"Fair enough. That t-shirt was super great though. I wonder where he got it." Thea tapped her phone against her chin and stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Oliver shut his laptop and stood up to leave. "You could always ask," he joked. Thea's face shone suddenly with this new information.

"Oh my god. You're right. I have Tony Stark's direct email address now."

"Thea - no - that was a -"

She was already walking away, tapping excitedly at her phone screen. He heard the "swoosh" of an email being sent and 10 seconds later a "ding" - followed by an excited whoop from Thea. Oliver sat down again, opened his laptop, and hit "reply" to Stark's latest email (subject line: "Why is your little sister so much cooler than you?").

_If I come visit, will you promise to stop emailing my little sister?_

The reply showed up almost immediately after he hit "send".

_Dude, no way. She appreciates me. BUT. If you visit for the weekend, I WON'T print her the shirt she wants. Trust me, it's a doozy._

Feeling decidedly blackmailed, Oliver booked a flight to New York City.

*

Oliver Queen had not been expecting blanket forts, judging by the look on his face when he exited the elevator in Stark Tower. There were very clearly two sides - one side of the room was a masterpiece of black sheets, set up to look like a rather intimidating castle. The other side was a red box, in essence. (It was a lot more impressive on the inside.) Tony wondered whether he should feel bad about the blackmail (Thea's t-shirt idea hadn't really been that bad). He wondered this for all of five seconds before Bruce materialized from Tony's blanket fort and shot him in the arc reactor. 

"The draw's a little light on this one," Bruce announced, as though he hadn't just unfairly beaten Tony by taking advantage of his distraction with Oliver's arrival. He held one of the bows Tony had been working on for Clint and nodded a greeting at Oliver. Tony plucked the suction cup arrow off of his arc reactor and glared at Bruce.

"This was very obviously a time out."

Bruce shrugged. "You didn't call it. Did he, JARVIS?"

"OH NO - do not use my own AI against me."

"I'm afraid Mr. Wayne is technically correct, sir. Though, I do believe that there was a verbal agreement to cease briefly once Mr. Queen showed up, in order to catch him up with the proceedings, as it were."

Tony stuck his tongue out at Bruce.

Oliver wondered whether it was too late to throw himself out of one of the windows.

*

"Clint!"

Clint, already hanging upside down from a fire escape, ignored the voice calling his name. It looked worse than it was, really. A minute later, Kate Bishop clambered up the fire escape and sat next to where he was dangling.

"How's it going, Hawkeye?" Her voice was mild, though the look she gave him over her sunglasses was sharp.

"This is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down," he sing-songed. Kate snorted. She did not sound like a well-raised rich person and he opened his mouth to tell her so. She shoved a Kit-Kat bar in his mouth to prevent him from commenting. 

"Did you sleepwalk onto the fire escape in an attempt to, I don't know, sleep-rescue a dog, or something?"

"Fff hu," he said, around the Kit-Kat. They sat like that for another minute, considering what they could see of the city around them. It wasn't much, honestly. They'd get a better view from the roof. Kate stood up.

"Wanna go haunt Manhattan?"

She might've said "hunt" instead of "haunt". Clint couldn't hear very well. One of his hearing aids had fallen out when he'd ended up on the fire escape. He considered both options for a second before he hauled himself upright. He took a moment to orient himself as blood returned to the rest of his body. 

"Sure, Hawkeye," he said, heading inside to pack some goodies to bring along, "let's go hunt Manhattan."

"I definitely asked if you wanted to go get drinks," she said, following him, "but hunting a borough sounds fun too."

*

It turned out that "hunting Manhattan" meant "stalk Tony Stark". Kate couldn't actually find it in herself to be surprised by this. She knew that Stark had kicked Clint out for hovering during some delicate design process. Or, as Clint had said, "for breathing too loudly in Tony's vicinity". Kate liked Tony, against all logic. After all, he represented a great deal of what she hated about her own upbringing. But Tony was also unlike everyone she'd grown up around and with. 

"Why are we not knocking on the front door, again?"

Kate looked up from where she was jimmying one of the basement windows. Clint stood casually, hands in pants pockets, unidentifiable stain on his white t-shirt. From this angle, she could see up his nose.

"Because this is more fun," she suggested. "Besides, you know JARVIS clocked us when we walked around the block. He's letting us get away with this, otherwise we'd be dealing with a wise-cracking red and gold flying tin can by now." 

"Or he's otherwise occupied." 

"I've never met an AI that couldn't multitask." She returned to the window. "Besides, if you're hunting, you gotta sneak up on your prey."

"Indeed, Ms. Bishop."

Kate and Clint both yelped. The window swung open on its own.

*

There was a kind of ultimate stare-down going on, the kind that made billionaires with a tendency to babble very nervous. That is to say, Oliver and Bruce were staring at each other with an intensity only matched by tragic actors playing star-crossed lovers in fair Verona, and Tony was stroking his goatee and concentrating very hard on not babbling. It was a surprising amount of work.

It was, therefore, a significant relief when Kate Bishop tumbled out of one of the "Hawkeye Approved" vents. (It even had a little bird etched on it. What? Tony had been bored one afternoon and Clint had suggested it and honestly he's done worse things with his time.) She landed gracefully on her feet and grinned.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join?"

A groan came from the vent she'd just exited. She glared up at it.

"Don't tell me you've never wanted to say that!"

A grumbling Clint Barton joined them, much less gracefully than Kate had. Tony pointed at him, accusingly.

"I kicked you out. I distinctly remember that happening. You were supposed to be off moping somewhere while I got semi-sane people who weren't raised in a literal circus to help me test equipment."

Bruce and Oliver both raised an eyebrow at "semi-sane". Tony ignored them. Kate slung an arm around Clint's drooping shoulders. "Which is where I found him," she told Tony, glaring at him now, "and had to cheer him up because when one Hawkeye is sad, the other Hawkeye has to cheer them up."

Tony thought the unspoken "or else I'd have to deal with him moping all day and I find that really annoying" was a good point. 

"You're both called Hawkeye?"

Everyone's attention swung to Oliver, who raised his hands in surrender. "Forget I asked."

"Yes, we are," Kate announced, grandly gesturing to her mentor/partner and herself. "Behold our magnificence."

There was a silence as the billionaires tried to decide what would be the least douche-y rich-guy way to say that both Hawkeyes were wearing torn up jeans, stained t-shirts with flannel overshirts, and one of them wasn't wearing shoes.

“Uh,” said Tony.

“So,” said Kate, brushing past any other response, “what’s happening, rich old vigilante-dudes?”

Oliver’s eye twitched.

“That’s superhero to you, punk,” said Tony. Kate’s only response was a raised eyebrow. Tony was starting to think Pepper had handed out pamphlets or held a seminar called “How to Respond to Anthony Stark with Only One Eyebrow”. (The class had actually been called “Regal Responses to Ridiculous Rants”. There had been a special section dedicated to Tony. It had a stellar turnout.)

“Anyway…” Tony considered the four people before him. “Obviously, the only solution is to have two teams, each person having a different variation on the bow I’m making.” Clint and Kate perked up at this. “At the end of each round, everybody switches bows. We’ll go four rounds, so everybody tries each bow, with an option on a fifth round if there’s a tie. Fifth round everyone uses their weapon of choice. The game shall be… JARVIS, drumroll and then randomize a summer camp game for us, please!”

The computer generated drumroll filled the air around them and everyone held their breath as it stopped.

“My randomizers have produced a game called kill ball.”

“NO,” yelled Tony and Bruce.

“YES,” yelled Kate and Clint.

Oliver eyed the window. Again.

“No,” said Tony, waving a finger at the others, “it’s not a good game for our purposes. No. Also, just… no. Try again, JARVIS.”

Another drumroll. Another pause.

“Is tag acceptable, sir?”

“Yes! Tag, I can work with. The only question left is who teams up.”

Clint and Kate immediately stepped closer to each other. Tony considered them for a second before turning to Oliver and Bruce, who were back to glaring at each other.

“Riiight - new idea! JARVIS and I referee, because he doesn’t have arms and I have a heart condition, and we split the Hawkeyes up because that just seems fair. Kate can go with Oliver - he’s got a younger sister, they’ll get along. That’s how that works, right? Bruce and Clint can team up because, uh, because I say so. Great. Now, here’s how we make tag fun, kids.”

*

“There is no way I’m following you into those vents.”

Kate poked her head out of an air vent and scowled at Oliver.

“Look, pal, is this a sexist thing or an ageist thing? I gotta know which retort to use.”

“Uh. It’s a dimension thing. I’m pretty sure I won’t fit.”

“Psh, nonsense. You’re basically Clint’s size and he does this all the time. Come along, Queen.”

Her head disappeared. Oliver grimaced up at the vent before giving in and clambering after her, muttering, “Should’ve said it was a sexist thing.”

*

“No offence, Barton, but this sounds like a really bad idea.”

“Wow, way to be offensive, Wayne.”

They contemplated the air vent above them. Clint clapped Bruce on the shoulder.

“It’ll be great. Come on, dude.”

*

Ten minutes later, the PA system on every floor of the Tower turned on.

“NEW RULE: NO ONE IS ALLOWED IN THE VENTS AT ANY TIME DURING TAG. Seriously, guys, what the hell, you’re supposed to be testing bows. How do you plan to do that in a tight, enclosed space? I’m surrounded by idiots. Also, Bruce, Oliver, you’re paying for that.”

A small, offended “Hey!” could be heard from the wreckage.

*

The Tower was dark and silent. There’d been a unanimous vote for low-lighting and only basic survival gear. (Of course, that had led to a 30-minute discussion on what everyone considered “basic”. Clint and Oliver won, by virtue of having been in actual survival scenarios. Bruce stayed out of it. Kate pouted.) The teams had split up, one starting up high, the other starting on the garage levels.

The ear-splitting screech of metal tearing through metal shattered the silence on the 30th floor of the Tower.

“GET DOWN!”

Oliver dropped immediately, rolling onto his back so he could still use his bow. A second later, seeing what was coming for him, he abandoned the idea of shooting and rolled away to shelter behind a desk.

Kate Bishop flew past on top of one of the drones, using her precarious perch to full advantage by shooting down the two drones chasing her and then stabbing the end of her bow through the one she was riding. As it careened out of control, she managed to launch herself off of it, slamming into a desk and rolling off quickly. She joined Oliver behind his desk a second later, gratefully accepting one of the water bottles he’d found there.

“I’m pretty sure we get fewer points if they’re unsalvageable.”

She scowled at him.

“Excuse you, what I lack in salvageability, I more than made up for in style. Style is worth SO MANY MORE.”

The PA system chimed on, announcing the defeat of the drones with Hunger Games style cannon blasts. JARVIS came on after five cannon blasts.

“Thirteen drones remaining of 40. Minus 10 points to Team Hawkeye Jr. for complete destruction of one drone.” Kate held up a finger without even seeing Oliver’s “I told you so” expression. “Plus 45 points for what Mr. Stark calls ‘Righteous Excellence’ -- he wishes to make it known that it would’ve been 50, but, quote, ‘she stuck the landing’ end quote.” 

“HEY! I’d like to see his pushing-50 ass do HALF as cool a stunt as that! I’m protesting that in the review round.”

JARVIS continued, wisely not passing on her comment to Tony.

“Three drones remaining until final bow switch. This is a reminder that drones shot during the pause for weapon exchange will be deducted from your final score.” 

“That was one time, at the very beginning!” Oliver protested. Kate gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Shake it off, pal. Come on, let’s go snipe on Team Hawkeye Sr.”

*

Bruce and Clint waited. Clint had found a perch he liked, on a balcony overlooking what Bruce assumed was a cafeteria area. Bruce sat beside him, enjoying the dark and the silence and above all enjoying how still everything was. Hanging out with Tony was fun but exhausting. Clint was a very calming presence when he wasn’t hassling Tony (or Kate or Natasha or literally anyone). Here, waiting in his makeshift sniper’s nest, Clint was in his element and totally at ease.

“You ever gonna help with this, by the way?” Clint hadn’t looked at Bruce, keeping his focus on the entrances.

“Who, little ol’ me? I have delicate wrists.” 

“Dude, you don’t gotta help if you don’t wanna, but nobody here is gonna give two shits or rat you out if you wanna kick some ass. Plus,” he mumbled, “Katie-Kate is kicking _my_ ass.”

Bruce nodded, contemplating the ceiling. 

“Once she and Queen quit bickering, they make a pretty good team.”

“That they do, Brucie-Bruce.” At the very pointed look Bruce gave him, Clint grinned. “So that’s a ‘no’ on Brucie-Bruce, I’m guessing?”

“I just don’t want you giving Tony any ideas. Heads up, east entrance, floor bot.”

“Got it. Also got two fliers near the south entrance. You want ‘em, Wayne?”

“Oh, why not.”

They stood as one, putting arrows to strings and drawing the attention of the drones. One drone switched direction and headed away from them, the other two headed straight for them.

“Got a runner, Barton,” said Bruce, taking a second to find his balance before firing - successfully removing one of the drones wings and making it list slowly toward the ground. Clint growled.

“I got the last two runners, Wayne. Go fetch.” 

He glanced over at Bruce, hoping to catch a sour expression on the man’s normally blank face, only to see Bruce leap over the balcony railing, slow his fall by grabbing the drone, roll when he hit the floor and come up running. 

“Huh,” said Clint, shooting the floor drone through its one eye and removing a couple of the legs for good measure, “How about that.”

*

After the final round, with all the drones destroyed or incapacitated, they met back in the main common area, which had managed to retain the blanket forts. Tony had absolutely no idea what time it was but as far as he could tell, the sun wasn’t up yet. They’d just finished a rather heated discussion about which bow was the best. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Kate and Clint were fighting over the same one while Bruce was dismantling one and Oliver was weighing the remaining two in his hands, looking indecisive. 

Tony was just about to say something when JARVIS spoke up.

“Sir, I believe I have the total scores.”

“Yes, gimme gimme.” Kate abandoned the fight with Clint to jump over the back of a couch and settle in, grinning eagerly. The others joined her, except for Bruce, who was very focused on the bow he was mangling. Tony honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce already knew the winners. 

“It’s a tie.”

Kate and Oliver groaned. Clint pointed a finger at Bruce. “It’s your fault for being lazy!”

“Wow, you actually got Bruce to relax? I’m impressed, Barton. However, this means we have one more round - weapons of choice for each -” Tony yelped as something smacked the back of his head. He glared at Bruce, who was glaring right back.

“No tie breaker round. We tested your bows for eight hours. Feed us.”

Tony sensed the support from Kate and Clint dissolve immediately. They started a chant of “Food! Food! Food!” 

Oliver was grinning as he watched the Hawkeye food dance, looking relaxed for the first time since he’d walked into the Tower. He didn’t even protest when Kate came over and made him join in.

Tony smirked at Bruce…’s empty chair. The man was already on the other side of the room on his phone, ordering something for everyone.

*

“You’ve never seen Brave? Dude, we have to revoke your archery license for that.”

The food had finally arrived - six boxes of pizza - and they were hanging out in one of the blanket forts. It was surprisingly spacious inside, enough room for a couple of couches and a projector screen. Tony had completely taken over one of the couches, despite protests that he hadn’t done any of the hard work that day. Bruce and Clint had the other couch and Oliver and Kate were on the floor, flipping through a list of movies to watch.

“Hey! _You_ try keeping up with the latest Disney releases when you’re trapped on a deserted island.”

“Hah! That’s nothing. When Nat and I were in Budapest -” Clint cut himself off quickly. Tony and Bruce were focused on him very intently.

“Yes, do tell, Barton,” Bruce drawled. “What happened in Budapest?”

“Nothing you’re allowed to know, Wayne,” said Clint, sticking his tongue out at Bruce. Considering how close they were sitting on the couch, he ended up almost licking Bruce’s nose. Bruce didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer so their noses were almost touching.

“What if I asked… _very_ … nicely?”

“Wha-” Clint blinked then turned to stare at Tony. “Is he flirting with me? Is he allowed to do that? Because I gotta tell you, Stark, the idea of being a house-husband is suddenly very appealing.” 

“You’re so easy, Barton,” Kate complained, as the others laughed. “Two seconds of flirting and you’re ready to settle down and raise little vigilante babies.” 

Tony spoke up.

“I already called dibs, guys, calm down.” 

There was a significant pause.

“Seriously,” said Clint, “please let me sell that story to the tabloids. I could live off that money forever. But also, you’re the last person here who needs a super rich husband - back off!”

“Guys are so weird,” mumbled Kate, as the laughter started up again.

*

Later, when Clint and Kate had fallen asleep and Bruce was off taking a phone call (because of course Gotham couldn’t take a weekend off), Oliver said, “Thanks for this.”

Tony, half-asleep with his arms wrapped around a pizza box, didn’t process for a second. He sat up and considered the younger man (he probably wasn’t even 30 yet, or had only just reached 30, Tony was getting old. Too old for this. For everything. Maybe Pepper would retire to an island with him soon). Oliver continued talking, keeping his eyes on the movie.

“Even before the shipwreck there was never any time or place for me to be normal. Not,” he added quickly, “that tonight counts as normal for most people, just so you know. But to find a place where I can be myself without having expectations… you’re all crazy, obviously, but it’s been good to be here.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been awake for two days, so if this is too personal don’t tell me. I get it. We all get it. How do you think Bruce and I ended up where we are? We all came from different backgrounds, I really wasn’t kidding about Clint and the circus, but we’ve ended up in the same place and found each other and bonded and it’s fucking magical. Yeah, it’s also shitty sometimes, but we also get to have days like this. So… yeah. Come back anytime.”

Oliver nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll do that.” On screen, Merida huffed at her suitors. “Wait, are you and Bruce together?”

“Huh? No? He’s off in the kitchen doing stuff, which is why we were able to have such a beautiful male bonding moment.”

“No, I meant…” Oliver trailed off. Tony raised an eyebrow. Oliver decided he’d let the tabloids fill him in on that particular relationship (if it ever was a thing). He wasn’t sure he could ask a half-asleep Tony Stark, who was still cradling a pizza box like it was a particularly delicate piece of equipment, whether he was in a relationship with both Pepper Potts and Bruce Wayne.

*

Pepper found them asleep in one of the blanket forts, surrounded by an unusual amount of suction cup arrows, plastic bows, pizza boxes, and candy wrappers. (Brave still playing in the background because Clint had insisted they watch it just one more time, to make sure Oliver got all the nuances. Oliver had been asleep for an hour at that point.) Tony was still awake, reading on his tablet and sipping from a glass of scotch. His eyes brightened and he smiled when he saw her and he immediately moved on the couch to make room for her. Pepper stepped out of her shoes and took careful steps around the sleeping forms on the floor. She sat next to Tony and leaned on him with a small happy sigh, settling into the space he’d made for her.

The next day, after she had made sure Kate, Clint, and Oliver all got on their way to their respective homes safely with new bows in hand and Bruce was occupied with making them breakfast, Pepper pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek.

“Did you have a nice sleepover with the other kids, dear?”

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her properly.

**Author's Note:**

> Me, halfway through this: are Clint and Bruce flirting? Is that a thing I just wrote? What is even happening here?
> 
> Sorry there wasn’t more Oliver! I tried, I promise.


End file.
